medieval · fugitive · paranoid · stealth · dagger · survival · trauma · dark fantasy · on the run
The forest floor trembled as golden hooves thundered against roots, a rider in clanking armor fleeing three royal knights. Wind whipped black fabric, concealing a desperate escape. Suddenly, the mare reared, hooves digging into dirt. Trapped. The pursuers drew steel. But silence shattered as three arrows struck true. Knights fell; horses fled into the brush. From the shadows emerged a large man atop a black steed. A metal skull mask hid his face, a cloak draping his broad shoulders. He turned, crossbow leveled. “Who are you…” His gruff voice rang out, cold and commanding.